Getting to Know You Better
by SilverStar02
Summary: A normal hunting day for Connor will most likely not start anything unexpected, right? But when a bright light brings Connor back in time where he doesn't even exist, his parents didn't even meet yet and his father was just about to take his first step on American lands. How can he return to the life he lived if he was given a chance to bring his family together? R&R please!
1. A Normal Day? I Think Not

**Hey guys! This is my take on the travel back in time stuff... So please read and review!**

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"Where? Where am I?" Connor groaned as his eyes fluttered open. He cringed when the bright light of the sun greeted him. He was lying down on the ground; he could feel the blades of the grass grazing softly against his skin and he could smell an earthly scent that drifted towards his nostrils. Connor tried to sit up. His head felt heavy and numb, Connor has no idea what happened. All he can remember is that he was just doing his usual job in hunting an elk through the American frontier. He doesn't recall a group of bandits that assaulted him and hit him in the head or even knocking himself out by falling from a tree. Maybe it has something to do with that bright light that appeared out of nowhere before he woke up on this leaf-carpeted floor.

"Maybe I'm just dreaming... Or not, everything just look real" the young assassin put his hood down and took a deep breath.

Connor looked around, trying to distinguish where he was. He was convinced he's in the middle of a forest, rows of trees surrounded him, he can hear the flow of a stream not too far from him and the sound of drumming woodpeckers attacking the wizened bark of trees. All of it seemed normal; yet, Connor sensed that something doesn't feel right.

This time he forced himself to stand up. He decided to venture around, if he finds everything is alright, it may not hurt to go back to the Homestead. Connor walked his way through the thick undergrowth, twigs crunching under his feet. If felt odd though, Connor knew that he is not familiar of the place. It was rather impossible to familiarize yourself in a forest, but Connor always finds his way on getting back to where he is supposed to go. All he needs is to find the highest spot he can find and try to look for his desired destination. But from the looks of this place, it seems like that the nearest viewpoint he can find is far too away from where he's standing on right now.

"My only way of getting back on track is too search for a road where merchant's caravans usually pass by. In that case, I can take a ride back to the city where the merchant is headed" he thought, considering the fact that merchants travel back and forth from one city to another.

Soon enough, the young assassin saw a dirt road with tracks are still visible on it. It is a sign that such road is used by caravans for trading. Connor sat by the edge of the road, leaning on the tree and rested his head on its bark. Patience was never Connor's best quality. From time to time, he would throw rocks aimlessly with a big frown painted on his face or even plucking furiously at the grass just beside him. It wasn't long until he'd given up and fell asleep under the shade of the tree.

"Oy!" an old man's voice rang through Connor's ears. He opened his eyes and saw an old man standing in front of him.

"Wha-?" Connor mumbled, and the old man rolled his eyes at the man in front of him. The old man was pudgy. He was wearing a typical clothing of traders roaming around the frontier. Connor can't distinguish much of what the old man looks like, maybe because the only light that was available came from the lantern on the man's hands.

"It's late what are ya doing here? Ya don't have a place to stay?" the man inquired. His sharp accent just caught Connor's attention.

"I'm waiting for a trader to pass by this road. I was hoping that I could join the ride just up to the next city. From there I'll just see what I can do" Connor explained as he tried to stand up. The moment he looked at the man, Connor was towering the old man, due to their difference in their height. The old man gave a toothy grin, though a few of his teeth went missing and Connor did not dare to laugh at the man.

"Ya take a ride with me. I'm off ta Boston tonight. Ya can probably stay in mah wife's sister's inn there" the old man offered as he motioned Connor to the caravan. The young man can't help but feel glad at the same time feel a bit embarrassed. He was never used to be aided by other people before. In fact, he was the one who always runs to them whenever they are in trouble. Connor was a man who can stand up on himself; he grew up without depending on other people.

"Umm... Thank you, sir. For helping me" he mumbled as he took his seat beside the old man who readied his horse. The old man heard Connor and gave a light grin.

"Ya don't have to thank me. Tha name's John Plum, at ya service" John reached out his arm for a handshake. Connor shook his hand hesitantly. He was quickly reminded by the first time he had a handshake with someone. It was Samuel Adams. The guy Achilles entrusted to get him out of Boston when all of them had their eyes on him.

"My name's Connor" he said with a smile but the old man gave him a questioning stare as the caravan started to move.

"Ya don't have a surname?"

"Well, I'm a bit hesitant in using it... I just use it when it's really necessary" Connor reasoned out. He never really formally used his father's surname, probably because he doesn't know much about the man. Judging from his latest encounters with him, he wasn't really that kind of father that will go on warm and loving to him upon knowing his son's existence. Maybe that's just the kind of man his father was.

"Well, I won't force ya if you don't wanna tell. I say, ya must get some good ol' rest there. It's gonna be a tiring day tomorrow once ya got to Boston" John suggested and Connor nodded in agreement. It was probably best if he take a rest. Despite napping under a tree earlier, he still felt tired and lacking sleep. It may not hurt to follow the old man. Thus, Connor closed his eyes and went to sleep.

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"Hey, kid. Wake up!"

Connor woke up and found himself in front of the tavern called Green Dragon Tavern. The name was familiar, Connor would usually pass by here whenever he's in Boston, but he never actually got to visit it since he was never a fan of spending his time drinking those disgusting beverages. His fellow assassin once tried to make him drink, but he ended up getting drunk after drinking half of the mug ale in one gulp. He really felt bad and swore that he won't make himself drink something like that again. At some point in time, the assassins never really got over of what happen that night and Connor never really wanted to know what happened.

"Are ya gonna go down or what?" John called out his arms crossed out on his chest. Connor went down the caravan; he figured that it was already dawn. How long have they been travelling?

"Ya would love this place, those sweet malt beers, beautiful maids, lively music and comfortable rooms to stay in for a day!" John said enthusiastically and Connor chuckled nervously. He clearly dislike such a place, but since the old man showed him such hospitality, he thought it might be just fair if he could stick around the place for a day or so.

As they opened the door, they were greeted by a middle aged woman who was throwing snide remarks at man who might be a worker in the tavern. Connor cringed at the loud screams and curses of the woman.

"Don't worry, she's not really that bad" John whispered to Connor and the young assassin just shook his head. Once the woman saw Connor and John at the door, she instantly became the kind old lady with a bright smile on her face. Connor rolled his eyes in disgust. She is definitely that kind of old lady in the books Connor read back in the Homestead.

"Welcome! What can we do for such a handsome customer?" she approached Connor, reaching out to hug him or something and the young assassin took a step back. He most definitely doesn't want her touching him.

"Umm... Thank you and a room, I guess?"Connor said, hoping that the lady wouldn't notice the act of rudeness he showed earlier. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind.

"Peter will lead you to your room. We will give you a fresh set of clothes as we dry up your, uh, costume? Say, you have such weird taste in clothing" the woman said as she stared at Connor from head to toe.

"I get that all the time..." Connor mumbled

As soon as Connor was brought to his quarters, he was given new clean clothes and got dressed. He hid all his weapons in a box just below the bed he will have to sleep on. His Assassin Robes were taken and was put into the tavern's laundry. Connor was hesitant at first, but they insisted and Connor was forced to do they asked him to do. He stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was tied in a fashion that looked a lot like the way his father tied his hair, his clothes were clothes of an ordinary citizen in Boston. For once, Connor felt like he was really a part of the crowd. He felt he's not really that isolated despite the fact that there are still features of Native American blood can still be traced on his face even though looked a lot like his father.

"I feel odd" he mumbled and Peter, the housekeeper heard him.

"Well, you look normal to me in those clothes. Judging from the robes you wore earlier plus the weapons you held, you must be a hunter, are you?" he said as he folds the blankets on the other bed. Connor turns around and stared at the man. He was skinny yet, he looked well-groomed despite his job as a housekeeper.

"If you don't mind me asking, why are there two beds? I thought I'm the only one resting in this room for a day?"

"Oh that. Sir Charles Lee ordered to reserve a room for an upcoming guest today. From what I've heard he came from Britain and according to the other maids, he's quite an important man" Peter said casually. The name Charles Lee never fails to make Connor's blood boil. Connor wasn't sure if the hatred within him can be traced on the expression of his face, he tried not to let it surface.

"Do you have any idea who that guest is?" Connor asked, trying to know more about this subject. He has suspicions that maybe this guest is another member of the Templar Order, that they might plan something dubious again.

"I guess he goes by the name, Haytham Kenway. I heard Sir Charles talking about that this is the first time he'll step on American land." Connor must've heard it wrong. His father was just about to arrive in this land for the first time? Right now? It's impossible! His father stayed in America way before he was even born! How come?

"Are you alright, sir? You seemed to get a bit pale..." Peter asked

"Are you sure his name is Haytham Kenway?"

"Yeah, no doubt about it"

"Would you mind telling me what year it is?" Connor asked, hoping that Peter's answer is the current year he's been living in.

"It's the year 1754, why?"

Connor swore he was about to lose his mind then and there. That light that swallowed him before, that light brought him back in time! He travelled back in time!

"I have to leave. Sir William Johnson needs me. Just call me when you need something" Peter said as he left the room, leaving Connor alone, lost in his thoughts.

"Great, now Johnson is still alive... My day just got better and better" Connor sighed as his eyes darted towards the window.

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**So, how was it? Don't forget to review!**


	2. But You Are Too Young!

**Hello! Forgive me if this chapter probably made Connor OOC, but I hope it would turn out alright for you guys. So yeah, please read and review!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed**

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Connor sighed miserably. How could his day get better and better? He'll sum everything up; first, he got swallowed by a blinding light that brought him back into the past. Then, he was put into the time where he doesn't even exist yet, not to mention, his father isn't even in the Americas in the first place. After that, the Templars that are supposed to be buried 10 feet below the ground are still running around happily in the streets of Boston. What made things a lot worse is that, he doesn't even have a penny to spend while being stuck in this madness.

He just stayed in the old room for a few hours, brooding on many things. He still can't get over the idea of him travelling in time. Even though the room is closed, Connor could still hear the loud singing of drunken men downstairs.

"I guess I have to find a job" he muttered bitterly as he marched to the door of his room. He decided to at least roam around the Boston that he never knew before. In his mind it was probably the same thing. The moment Connor opened his door, the woman who owns the tavern was seen right in front of his doorstep. The young assassin felt uneasy.

"My, you look a lot more dashing in those clothes, are we? By the way, my name Theresa Melbourne, owner of the tavern" she said as she reached out her hand for a handshake. Connor reluctantly gave her a handshake. He thought it would have been rude enough if her didn't shook her hand and leave her hand waiting for nothing.

"Umm... Hello, I guess? My name is Connor. What can I help you with?" he asked politely, not even sure if he's supposed to give a smile. With the look on the woman's face, he probably looked stupid while trying to figure out if he's going to smile or not.

"Rent, you need to pay the rent as long as you stay here" she said casually, and Connor leaned on the jamb of the door with his arms crossed over his chest.

"But, I thought Mr. Plum paid for my rent" Connor said, waiting intently for the woman's response.

"He paid for your second day here. He told me you look lost in the woods and by God knows how long you will stay here"

"I wasn't planning to stay here for a week or so. I just thought on getting a ship back to where I'm supposed to go" Connor explained while counting the number of days on his fingers.

"And how are you supposed to do that? You probably have some gold in your pocket, perhaps?" Theresa inquired and Connor gave a childish frown. How can he forget that he doesn't even have a penny in his pocket?

"Well..."

"You need help, boy"

"I don't need any! I guess I'll just..." Connor thought of ways on how he can earn money, fast. He can go to the Frontier to hunt and sell his loot to the market. If he wants something faster he could just pickpocket on the streets, but it wasn't really Connor's style. He doesn't usually steal from other people for his own gain like earning money.

"You'll just what?" Theresa pushed; impatience can be traced on her face.

"Maybe I'll just go around hunting in the Frontier, and sell some of my loot to the market..." Connor replied, a faint smile formed on his face as if he just formulated the best solution to his problems.

"Well, if you say so. I can't stop you if that's what you wish" Theresa said as she went down the stairs. Connor decided to start hunting tomorrow morning. Having a day of doing nothing was too rare for him, probably because he was too stressed on how his life was running in his time. But in this Boston, this time he was thrown on, he doesn't even exist. No one even heard of the name Connor Kenway or even Ratonhnhaké:ton. In this time, he can live a peaceful life. He can live the life he always wanted ever since. So, why can he not try to live like a normal person for a day?

Connor strolled down the stairs. He can smell the strong odour of rum wafting in the air and the boisterous laughter of men rang to his ears. Connor searched the room. It seems like there is no trace of Charles Lee or William Johnson around, much to Connor's delight. The tavern never looked any better. He can't even tell the difference between the other taverns out there. His eyes wandered through the tavern, not even noticing that he was about to hit a drunk Redcoat as he roams around.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" the Redcoat yelled and took Connor's collar, as if he was trying to intimidate the man. Connor's face remained calm, even though he could feel the anger starting to grow inside him. His dark eyes scrutinized the Redcoat's face. He looked like a normal New Yorker, save the part where he looked a bit closer to an elk.

"I didn't mean to disturb you. All will be well if you let go of me and no one will get hurt" Gods, Connor sounded a lot like his father there. But now isn't the time to think about that. He should find a way to get out of this mess before everything gets worse, a lot worse. He could feel the tension rising, especially when the whole tavern went silent and their attention are now focused on the two of them. The Redcoat let go of him, and Connor sighed in relief, thinking that he finally got rid of the potential pain in his arse.

"You've got the nerve to talk back, you little savage. We'll see who will talk fancy after I pummel you into a limp noodle!" he was about to land a strong punch on Connor's face but Connor easily dodged the punch and countered by grabbing the Redcoat's wrist and threw him on the nearest wooden table he can find. The Redcoat fell on his back, with the wooden table collapsed beneath him. He was knocked out cold.

"That was easy..." Connor muttered, trying to ignore judging glances from the crowd. A group of Redcoats, probably the poor man's companions quickly popped out from the crowd in the tavern.

"What have you done?! You will be sorry for messing with us! You fucking savage! Let's see what you will do now!" a Redcoat screamed as Connor turned his head to the ranting Redcoats.

"Now, I'm going to feed you your teeth" he said daringly, as he landed a fist on the Redcoat's face. There is a sickening crunch as of bone hitting face, teeth in particular. Connor could've sworn that he actually heard the blood land. There is a low rumble of voices. Connor wished he could make out what they are saying, though it can scarcely be more than usual trash talk. Another Redcoat charged at the young assassin. A well-timed elbow from the assassin has one of them reeling. The other is thrown to another table, lands heavily and tries to block blows away from his face. Two more Redcoats lunged at Connor, their fists ready to pummel the assassin to the ground. Connor kicked the Redcoat on his abdomen before throwing him to the shelf of bottled rum. Connor quickly took the other Redcoat and smashed his face on the solid wooden counter.

Only one Redcoat remained, but he made a wrong decision of breaking a bottle of rum on Connor's head from behind. Gasps can be heard from the crowd and Connor silently stood up straight after being hit by a bottle. Blood can be seen soaking through the back of his head, his hair was drenched with sweat and his own blood. Connor silently turned his head to the Redcoat who suddenly felt fear crawl up to his feet that he can't even move. Connor's face wasn't visible because of his long hair was covering his face, but it was obvious that there's a piercing glare on his face. Even bystanders felt uneasy, it's as if Connor himself radiated fear then and there.

"You aimed that bottle on my head. You do know that hitting my head with such force is extremely dangerous, right? That would only mean you intend on killing me, right?" Connor said in a dangerously low tone. The Redcoat was frozen; it's as if all his courage faded away once he slammed the bottle on Connor's head. Soundlessly, he unleashes his fury on the man within arm's reach, uppercutting him squarely under the chin before he knew what hit him. That's one down, make no mistake. The crowd was shocked, something in Connor's technique suggests he has done this all that many times before and you begin to wonder about him.

Connor flinched on the pain from the back of his head. He was used on getting beaten up, since that was somehow a part of his job description.

"CONNOR!" a loud scream rang to his ears. Connor turned his head to where the scream came from and came from no other than Theresa Melbourne, the OWNER of the tavern Connor recently trashed.

"Look what you have done! Think of how this must've cost!" she ranted, her face was red with anger. She quickly turned her head to the crowd.

"Okay! The tavern is closed, and go get your fucking asses out of here! NOW!"

In a blink of an eye, the crowd quickly left one by one. Some of them took the injured Redcoats to the nearby infirmary. Everyone left, only those who stay in the tavern for the night and the housekeeping team were left in the tavern. All of them were busy cleaning up the debris left by the recent bar fight.

Connor was brought to the nearest doctor they can find. And much to Connor's surprise, he was familiar with the doctor that attended to him. It was no other than Doctor Lyle White. He was different from the Dr. White Connor knew. He looked younger and more groomed than the first time he met him. But still, he's still a man of small talk. He wasn't as sober as he usually was back in Homestead, instead, he even tried to crack a joke on Connor which failed terribly because he felt humiliated when Connor didn't even crack a smile. Connor left his clinic, with a cloth wrapped through his head like a bandanna, and headed back to the Green Dragon Tavern.

Theresa kept on yelling at her servants to clean everything up and constantly yell at Connor who was helping mopping the floor.

"You!" she suddenly pointed a finger at Connor. The young assassin rolled his eyes. He knew all too well that she will go on endlessly about what happened. Connor was guilty, he felt bad for thrashing the woman's tavern and even insisted to do whatever he can to restore the tavern to its former glory, but he knew that it isn't necessary to hear all that ranting to make him feel a lot worse.

"You, started all of this!" she yelled once more and Connor rolled his eyes, trying to avert his attention to something else. But he kept on failing to do so.

"I know! That's why I'm trying to help out!" Connor said through gritted teeth

"And you are doing a very poor job with it!"

"Well, what do you expect me to do?! Produce gold out of splinters and pay for all the damages?!" Connor snapped

"You might as well!" Theresa snapped back as she turned her back on him. That's the time Connor had enough and threw his mop on the floor. He marched back to the old lady with a scowl on his face.

"At least, just tell me what I should do to make up for my mistakes! I'll do anything!" Connor seethed and Theresa raised a brow at him before a grin formed on her face. And Connor's face started to heat up.

"Well, not really everything, it's... umm..." he stuttered and the woman roared into laughter

"I'm not really sure of how things run in your head but judging from the redness of your face, it isn't good" she said and Connor tried to cover his face with his hands.

"There is actually one thing, Connor" she stated and Connor was all ears.

"You will have to work as a housekeeper in this tavern. You will be the one to save money to buy new furniture, bottles of ales and rum, fix the windows and clean the tavern. In a much simpler explanation, restoring this tavern will be your rent. If everything is done, you can leave freely from this God forsaken tavern"

"But that would take a while! I'm-" Theresa cut him off

"You said _anything_, remember?" she reminded him and Connor rubbed his temples. He forgot, he just said anything.

"Fine, but I can't guarantee that it would look as good as it was before" Connor gave in, and Theresa gave a satisfied smile. She picked up a broom from the floor threw it to Connor. Her smile then disappeared and began ordering people around.

"Connor! Get your fucking ass over there and clean that corner! You're the most useless mongrel I've ever met! You should've-" she stopped and Connor wondered why, he only realized that they were just beside the entrance and the door opened. Two figures appeared as they pass through the door. Connor was sure the other one was Charles Lee, holding a rather big baggage. But he wasn't so sure with other one, his face was hidden beneath the tricorne hat. Connor scrutinized him some more, the clothing looks too familiar, the movements and there is probably one person he knows that would hang out with Lee while wearing a hidden blade. Charles Lee absent mindedly dropped the bags and Connor swore that he saw Lee's mouth hang open, probably because of the mess inside the tavern.

"Am I interrupting something?" a sharp British accent rang through Connor's ears. He was too sure of it; it was no other than his father, Haytham Kenway. He looks so young. His gray streaks of hair are now raven black strands of hair! Connor was sure this was the time his father was in his prime.

"But, you look too young!" Connor pointed at Haytham as he dropped his broom. Connor has no idea why he can't stop himself from saying that, but he was too damn sure that he just humiliated himself in front of everyone.

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**What do you think? Please don't forget to review! **


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